Footprints in the Snow
by Warpath Grizzly
Summary: Stella is a Canadian SOE agent, bound and determined to make up for the lives she took by making sure that none fall under her hawk-like watch. Together with Bill, Buck, and Joe, she will do everything she can to stop Death in his tracks.
1. For Canada

Despite the gray clouds obscuring any passage of sight into the sky beyond, the filtered, and yet somehow magnified light of the sun still managed to shine through. Snowflakes, more numerous than the stars in the night sky, floated down from those very clouds, providing further difficulties in the matter of being able to see worth a damned. What would once have been concrete underfoot was now nothing more than a pad of white, like a blanket that covered the earth. Her riffle slung proudly over her shoulder, a rucksack in one hand and a duffle bag in another, Stella walked proudly, despite the snow, towards the mail plane that would carry her to Chilton Foliate in England for jump training. _If I ever get off the ground_, she added mentally. She knew that just below the soft snowy exterior was a hard sheet of ice, she could feel it under her boots. That ice would make things very difficult for the plane to get into the air, not to mention the fact that it would probably make it very dangerous if indeed the craft did manage to take off. Still, Stella thought, at least it wasn't a still day. The still days were the worst. Ice could build up quickly, and the air was so cold that it stung at the skin worst than anything a hail storm could ever throw.

Stella climbed aboard, and carefully placed all but her gun beneath the seat, which she propped up on the seat next to her. She made her way to the door, and took one last look at the wilderness that surrounded her. She promised herself that while she was gone, she would never forget this land, her home. She would never forget what she was truly fighting for.

Stella took her last breath of clean north air, and felt the force of the blizzard on her face. It seemed to fill her lungs with more than just air. She felt her chest swell with a newly found courage, as though the land itself knew she was fighting for it, and had decided to give her what it could to keep her going. Nodding her understanding to her frozen home, she closed the door to the plane and settled down into her seat.

She considered taking her book out but the plane had yet to taxi, and she had almost two days worth of flying ahead of her. Instead, she looked out the window and contemplated upon what she would do with men under her command. Strictly speaking they weren't under her command; in fact it was considered a faux-pas to order about men that weren't directly under one's command. Still, she was a ranking officer, and should she need to make a command she couldn't afford not to be taken seriously. If she had a case of mutiny on her hands she could easily have such a man shot, but she wanted to avoid that at all cost. It would only cause more problems than it would fix in the long term.

The plane began to taxi, and she took a deep breath. Nothing would happen. She wouldn't need to give orders, and no one would question her if she did. She could just hear her mother shrieking in her ear already…

"You're staying with a bunch of dirty, young men, with no self control, and you're worried about them not listening to you?"

Stella rolled her eyes and shook her head. If her mother had said that to her in person she probably would have replied with something along the lines of not being worried about sex when she was being shot at. Though that would only cause her mother more needless worry.

Stella could feel the plane going faster, her own weight forcing her further into the seat. She took a quick look at her gun to make sure it was alright, and closed her eyes. She intended to stock up on sleep while she could.

**5 Months Later; Upottery, England**

Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye were sitting in one of the Easy Company tents when Buck Compton marched in looking rather annoyed. The two men in front of him were still shooting dice, as they had been before Winters had picked him up, drove him to some unknown part of the camp, reprimanded him, then left him there.

"Hey Buck, we woulda waited on ya but you've been gone for so damn long. Where've you been?"

Bill asked, looking up from his game long enough for Joe to sneakily change which way the dice landed to a number which would favour him.

"Nowhere,"

He replied moodily, sitting down next to them. Bill looked over at Joe, both men noting the shift in attitude their superior had come back with.

"Hey, you know what Bill? I've got letters I wanna send. We can show Lt. Compton here where the mail planes land."

Buck looked up at them in mild appreciation as Bill gave a nod. Both men knew Winters well enough to know that he didn't approve of gambling, especially not with men who weren't officers.

The three of them set out into the dampness and the fog, Bill and Joe pointing people and things out to Buck as the passed. They made it to the mail strip just as a plane was coming in.

"Sometimes the pilots will just take letters and toss 'em in the back of the plane for you. You won't have to worry that way about your mail not being collected,"

Joe said as they watched the aircraft slowly make its way towards them. Bill jerked his head towards the plane once it had stopped, motioning the group forward. In all honesty, Joe and Bill had just expected to hand in their letters to the first person that came out of the plane, watch him toss them into the back and be done with the deed. Joe thought he might settle down to read for a while, and Bill thought he would try to convince Lt. Compton that gambling with them was alright, honestly, as long as Lt. Winters didn't find out. Buck himself had planned on getting to know a few more men before the day was out.

Something far more interesting had caught their attention, however, as a jeep drove up and stopped next to the plane. The driver got out, handed a few packages to the man who had appeared at the plane's door, just as a woman stepped out of the car dressed in a strange uniform, carrying with her two large bags, and what appeared to be a sniper rifle strapped over her chest.

"Christ, she looks like my cousin Luca with a set of tits,"

Bill murmured without thinking before quickly looking up at Buck.

"Sorry sir."

"Just don't let her hear you,"

He whispered as she set foot onto the pavement. She certainly wasn't what the men would describe as petite, in fact she looked as though she could take any of them on and have a chance at winning.

"Give me those, I'll put them in the plane,"

Joe said, snatching the letters from the other two and marching towards the plane. Once he had passed the woman he stopped and stooped slightly, as though checking out her ass, then gave two thumbs up right before she stopped in front of Buck and Bill.

"If your friend insists on behaving rudely, gentlemen, you might not want to wear reflective surfaces while he's doing so. Also, I happen to have excellent hearing,"

She said, tapping the sunglasses that were hanging on Bill's jacket while giving him a reprimanding look. Her honey blond hair shifted to reveal that she had a milky white cataract over her right eye, while the other was the colour of amber honey. The cataract took the nerve right out of Bill. Buck on the other hand was shaking his head avidly, and bringing his hand across the throat as if to say 'cut it out now or you might be shot!".

"Lt. Colonel Stella Jaworski of the Royal Canadian Armed Forces, soldiers. So if you don't mind saluting that would be lovely"

She spoke in a tone that commanded their utmost attention and respect at once.

"Yes, ma'am!"

They said, both saluting. Joe must have noticed their actions because when he returned he saluted as well. She silently inspected their stripes as well as the names sewn onto their uniforms before saluting them in return.

"You are all from the 101st airborne?"

She asked quietly. Her voice was so soft that they had to remain silent when she spoke just to hear her. They suspected all at once that this tactic of having a quiet voice had served her well in keeping the soldiers under her command still, and calm.

"Yes, ma'am,"

Buck answered again. She nodded, and turned

"From which Company do you men come from?"

"We're all from Easy Company, ma'am,"

He said, and much to his surprise, she cracked a grin.

"Ah c'est chanceux sa!* Just the men I'm searching for. Look, if you don't mind keeping my arrival a bit hush hush, I'd be glad. Just until I've had a decent meal; I haven't had lunch yet."

She grinned, hoisting one bag a big more casually over her shoulder.

"Would you mind showing me to the mess hall? I'd hate to disturb them, but honestly I'd take a cold tin of beans right now if that's all they'd give me."

Bill, Joe and Buck stared at each other for a moment.

"Ben, voyons les gars! Allons-y!"*

She said, shooing them along. Allons-y was just about the only thing they had gotten out of that sentence, but it was enough to get them going.

"May I take those for you, Ma'am?"

Joe asked, outstretching his hand.

"Thank you, Sgt. Toye. Maybe now I won't shoot you for checking out my ass,"

She said cheerfully, chucking the rook sack over to the now extremely fearful man.

"Ma'am, I apologize for my behaviour, had I known-"

"You would have been more secretive about it,"

She added, shooting him a wink and a smirk.

Toye relaxed a little, though as he wasn't sure he was out of the clear yet; he didn't dare test any limits in any case. He simply stayed silent as the three of them led the Canadienne forward.

"Permission to speak, ma'am?"

Buck asked tentatively. Stella nodded.

"Why are you looking for Easy Company?"

"The SOE has assigned me to be your field intelligence officer. A sort of advanced scout, you might say; that is, I won't be in uniform a whole lot,"

She explained, seeing the confused look on her face.

"It's my job to go in as a civilian, and give you the low down on what's where,"

She continued, following them as they turned down a row of tents.

"This is the mess hall, Ma'am,"

Guarnere pointed out, opening the door for her.

"Thank you, sergeant!"

She flashed a dazzling smile.

"Would you gentlemen care to join me?"

The men looked at each other before nodding and entering the hall behind her.

"At attention!"

She called, and the entire kitchen staff stopped what they were doing. Joe, Bill, and Buck stiffened their posture as well.

"Four sandwiches, on the double! Don't be stingy, and please do NOT debate with me on this; I haven't eaten in over twenty four hours! Also, something to drink would be nice, even if it's water,"

She added in a kindly tone, which contrasted so sharply with the loud and firm order she had given before that the men couldn't help but grin and chuckle at each other. That, and she had blatantly lied so that she would get her way. Had she been their commanding officer they might have cared, but the unspoken rule dictated that unless it was urgent, she probably wouldn't order them to do anything.

"So,"

She said, sitting down at a table as the kitchen resumed its work.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you are all Americans, and therefore enlisted some time after December 8th,"

She stated, folding her hands in front of her as the men sat opposite her.

"Yes, ma'am."

Joe responded delicately, testing the waters. All seemed well when Stella nodded, but he tensed when she sighed.

"So you haven't seen any action then,"

She specified wearily, tying up her hair.

"How's your CO?"

She asked, just as the cook waved at them to come and get their food.

"I'll get it,"

Buck said, getting up from his seat.

"We've never seen him in the field before,"

Toye said quietly, and both he and Bill could see Stella's form tense.

"Right,"

She murmured solemnly as Buck placed four identical plates down in front of them.

"Thank you Buck,"

She said before calling out her thanks to the kitchen staff, one of which had brought water for them all in mugs. It took Stella all of five minutes to scarf down the sandwich.

* * *

><p>Back in their tent that night, after Stella had thanked them for their help during the day, and bid them all goodnight, Buck, Joe and Bill were all settling down into their bunks. Tomorrow might be a day that they jumped, and they wanted to be well rested just in case.<p>

Joe, however, was standing still, looking at his pillow.

"Joe, you okay?"

Bill asked, throwing a bit of scrap paper at him to get his attention when he didn't respond.

"Did you see the way she tensed when I said we hadn't seen Meehan in battle before?"

"She's not gonna shoot ya Joe, go to bed,"

Bill said scolding. Joe shook his head.

"Toye, it's not you. I asked Winters where she had come from after she left. He said she'd been in Dieppe."

Both Joe and Bill looked at Buck as though he had just told them they had lost the war.

* * *

><p>A Note from Grizzly<p>

I have decided to included the name of the Band of Brothers episode in front of the chapter title, so that you, the reader, can follow along.

Although this hasn't been revealed yet, Stella is from a small town in Canada where the accent is very strong. So for the purposes of keeping her authentic, I've decided to write the French as it is spoken, so yes there will be errors in it. I won't provide the proper French, but I will provide both literal and figurative translations.

Translations:

The translations will be formatted so that you get the French first, then the literal translation, then what the sentence is supposed to actually mean. Some of them won't differ much, but some will vary greatly.

Ah c'est chanceux sa! = Ah, that's lucky that is = Ah, that's lucky

Ben, voyons les gars! Allons-y! = Well, look boys! Lets go! = Well, come on boys! Let's go!

Ben, usually said more like one would say Bain as in bath, is a very flexible French-Canadian term. Therefore if you ben being translates as more than one word, that isn't an error, it has various meanings.


	2. Early Risers

June 5th 1944, Upottery, England

A muggy sort of cold had managed to seep into Joe's sleeping bag. He could feel it when he turned over on his cot to face his friends. Other men had come into the tent during the night, Popeye, Malarky, the like. The bunks hadn't been assigned, so when the men had arrived in Upottery they just wandered towards a tent and settled down. The barrack was quiet with the exception of a few snorers, but that didn't bother Joe much. He had other matters on his mind, like Dieppe. He didn't know the exact numbers, but he knew that nearly everyone had been lost. Taking that into account he wasn't sure if Stella was lucky or not to have survived; it might have just been easier for her to die on that beach. He wondered if that battle was where her cataract had come from. The way her eye was slightly red around the milky white suggested to Joe that it had been a harsh and sudden blow rather than something that had developed over time. Yet, she seemed almost too cheerful to have that be true about her; she seemed too used to the injury. Thinking about Stella and Dieppe made him wonder if he and the men around him weren't about to share much the same fate.

He also had to wonder where Stella had been during her stay there, he had seen her pop up here and there over the time that they had been waiting for the jump, and with the weather clearing it certainly felt as though tonight could be jump night. Since she was Easy's intelligence officer, he figured, she would be present on that day at least and should curiosity get the better of him, he could ask her where she'd been. He hoped she wasn't one to simply fall away unnoticed like that in combat, though this was something he would soon find out whether he wanted to or not. People changed in training, how much would they all change in combat?

Throwing the blanket off himself, he dressed quickly and made his way outside. He didn't think sleep would be returning to him any time soon, and as it was five in the morning he knew that everyone would be up soon anyway. The tension in the air was high, he could feel it flowing like an electrical current, and he wondered how many of the men were in their bunks, laying awake thinking about what lay ahead. They could feel it, he could feel it, today was the day. Everything was eerily quiet, far too much so for his liking; he couldn't even hear the wind that he could sense blowing on the back of his hand.

"You're up early," The sudden voice made him jump, and it took Joe a few seconds before he stood tall, straightened himself out and made as though nothing happened while he looked for the source of the voice.

"Over here," It called knowingly. The red morning sun was reflecting brilliantly off the hood of the jeep where Stella sat, which had previously blinded Joe to her presence. She had her legs sprawled out in front of her while she rested her weight behind her on her palms. She had apparently been admiring the sunrise and seemed entirely pleased with her vantage point. Just then however, she had focused her attention on Joe.

"Ma'am," He said briskly, saluting her as was proper. She saluted him in return and patted the truck, calling him over.

"Nightmares?" She asked, though Joe shook his head.

"Just restless, ma'am." He said, still standing next to the vehicle. He didn't want to be any closer to her for fear of what might happen should anyone think it inappropriate. She smirked.

"T'e ben fin toe eh?"* She spoke more to herself than to Joe, who raised his eyebrow. He still wasn't used to her French; it didn't even sound like the proper French he had learnt from his first year high school course.

"Ma'am?"

"I don't bite, Toye." She chuckled. Again she patted the hood of the truck, and Joe relented, taking a seat beside her.

"Yourself, Ma'am? Why are you up so early?"

She raised a book that had been hidden from his view on the opposite side of her.

"The feeling of jump day woke me up, so I decided to take in the sunrise and read." She grinned sheepishly as though this was some sort of odd behaviour that wouldn't be condoned by the military. Joe was taken off guard when he saw through her glasses to the milk white eye beneath; he had managed to forget about it somehow. Obviously she noticed because she closed her eyes and faced the sunrise again, pretending to take in its increasing warmth. After a few seconds curiosity got the better of him.

"Does it make it hard ... to read?" He said pointing to his eye hoping she would get the message; and having forgotten that he had meant to ask her where she had been.

"No, my good eye gets tired more quickly, but it's like that for most things."

Joe was surprised at the good natured tone in her voice. She either didn't think much of the handicap, or was used to being constantly asked questions about it. She checked her watch and scooted off the front of the jeep's hood.

"Breakfast?" She asked, tilting her head in the direction of the mess hall. Joe stood and walked beside her towards the tent, feeling his confidence in the woman grow slightly. She seemed friendly enough, then again he hadn't seen her angry. And yet again, he had checked out her ass without being reprimanded too harshly for it, though he wasn't exactly sure if she had told the CO yet. Still, her temperament seemed even enough. "It's a good thing you're here, Toye." She stated, tearing him away from his thoughts.

"Ma'am?"

"Well if you hadn't been I might have walked into that tent thinking it was the mess hall." She said jerking her thumb behind her. Joe turned, and sure enough he spotted the white sign with black letters which spelt out 'mess hall' sitting idly on its post in the ground. Joe sucked in a breath and pulled a u-turn only to be stopped and a little winded by an arm outstretched in front of him. "What's on your mind, Toye?" By her tone, Joe knew he probably shouldn't lie to her, but he wasn't about to tell her blatantly that he had been wondering if she was a bitch or not. An eyebrow rose over her glasses and he swallowed hard.

"Nothing, ma'am." She eyed him for a moment, and he knew she didn't believe him, but she didn't press the matter. Joe caught sight of Bill who raised his arm and was about to wave Joe over when Bill spotted Stella beside Joe and lowered his arm, going back to his toast.

Stella had to admit, that had hurt a little, but she puffed out her chest anyway and made for the queue. She wasn't there to make friends, she reminded herself sternly.

Joe sat down with Bill and Buck, knowing from experience that breakfast was waiting for him there.

"Good job Bill,"

"What?"

"She's got one damaged eye, she's not blind." He hissed, going back to his breakfast before noticing that Stella was looking around the cafeteria, searching for an empty seat. He thought about calling her over, but before he got the nerve to she took one beside Perconte and Luz, who had her smiling in a matter of seconds. Luz had taken her hand, and presumably introduced himself, because Joe caught her stating her name and rank, and Luz's hand quickly left hers in a salute, as did Percontes. She waved the salutes away with a smile, shifting her eyes over to Joe for a brief moment. He looked down at his empty plate.

Stella smiled inwardly to herself. Honestly, these men must not have seen their girls in quite a while, she hadn't received this much male attention since her old troop had met her and all they had wanted to know about was her eye.

"So, George Luz and Frank Perconte. I'll try to remember, and I truly am sorry if I don't for a while. I'm rubbish with names."

"How long are you with us, ma'am?" Perconte asked.

"Until I die, or the war ends. Whichever comes first," She said, biting into her breakfast. "Pis j'amerai ben que c'est l'dernier.*" She muttered lowly, but someone appeared to have caught the comment. A little ways down the table a man with jet black hair leaned over the table.

"Vous parlez le Francais?*" He asked, and Stella perked up her ears, looking over the heads of the men.

"Oueh J'parl Francais... tu viens pas du Canada though toe, enh*?"

She asked with a bit of a chuckle. She could almost hear the bayou in his voice, an accent that a born and raised French Canadian would never have.

"Non, je vien de la Louisiane.*" She stood to greet the new soldier, shaking his hand firmly.

"Ton nom, mon frère?*"

"I'm so confused…" Perconte muttered, making Stella laugh.

"Eugene Roe. Most here call me Doc Roe. "

"Lt. Colonel Stella Jaworski. Finish your breakfast, soldier, you'll need your strength." She said patting him on the shoulder and returning to her seat.

"What about Canada?" Perconte asked, sounding more and more confused as the moments passed.

"My homeland," Stella said through a mouthful of food. Luz and Perconte looked at each other, suspicion in their eyes.

"Why would the American military send a Canadian with us?" Perconte asked, though by the stiffening of Stella's posture he thought perhaps he shouldn't have posed the question.

"They figured you should have an intelligence officer, and couldn't train one in time. I was available so they sent me." She said dully. Luz and Perconte nodded, it seemed legitimate. It wasn't as though their own military had a habit of storing intelligence officers around in boxes for whenever they needed an extra one, though Canada was in the war too. Perhaps they just had a surplus of that kind of officer, Perconte thought to himself.

"See you on the runway boys." She said, dropping her plate off at the kitchen before heading out the door. Joe watched her leave, and being near the kitchen end of the building, noticed that everyone else watched her leave too. Well, she certainly had caused quite a stir by being there, Joe had to wonder how much more of a stir she would make on the battlefield.

Stella let out a deep breath once she was outside the mess hall. It was true what they said, that acting as though one was something truly made one that thing. Still, she realised that lying to these soldiers was not going to be getting any easier, and reminded herself to just stick to her story. Field intelligence officer, sent by the Canadian military. Yes, just stick to that. Any other information she could simply say was classified since she held a rank that was quite high, not to mention she was SOE. She took one more deep breath to calm herself, and made her way back to the tent. She knew today was jump day, she could feel it in the air, and she had to prepare her gear, just the task to keep her mind off the fact that she was blatantly lying to the American Military.

* * *

><p>It was about one in the morning when the first shots fired by the Germans woke Joe from the deepest sleep he had ever been in. He could vaguely hear the sound of the shrapnel hitting the plane, like rocks pelting against a tin can that he happened to be sitting in. He shook himself, wondering if his extreme calm was due to the anti-air sickness pills that had been handed out by Doc Roe before takeoff. Even as they drew closer to the drop zone, and the firing became heavier, he could remember feeling more fear on his practice jumps; where nobody had been firing on him. It was surprisingly easy, emotionally, for Joe to get out the door. The only problem was a blast of shrapnel had rocked the plane and sent him tumbling out, which had caused him a bit of panic. The real fear came to him later as he was floating down to the earth. He happened to look up to find a man close enough to inspect, wondering if it was just himself who hadn't tied his leg back properly and had managed to lose it, when he noticed one of the C-47s being shot down in flames, several burning figures falling without parachutes lighting up the night skies like a set of morbid torches. He let out constant prayers as he and hundreds of others dropped from the sky, he prayed that he wouldn't be injured, that he would have a safe landing and that if he had to die, that it be quick and painless, unlike those he had just witnessed falling in fire. He prayed that they would not survive the fall.<p>

* * *

><p>Translations<p>

Teh ben fin toe enh? – You're so nice you eh? – You're such a gentleman.

Enh is pretty much just the French version of the Canadian 'eh', which replaces 'right?' at the end of the sentence.

Pis j'amerai ben que c'est l'dernier. - And I would like well that it be the last - And I hope for the later.

Vous parlez le Francais? - You speak the French? - You speak French?

Oueh J'parl Francais... tu viens pas du Canada though toe, enh? - Yes I speak French... you come not from Canada though, you, right?

This sentence shows the Franco-Ontarien (French people from Ontario) tendency to throw the odd English word into their speech, though it is not considered Frenglish to do so. You will usually only find this tendency in Northern Ontario, and very rarely in Quebec.

Non, je vien de la Louisiane. - No, I come from the Louisiana. - No, I come from Louisiana.

Ton nom, mon frère? - Your name, my brother?

* * *

><p>A Note From Grizzly<p>

I have decided not to include the episode names after all, for the simple reason that I've just crossed episodes, and I may do so again in the future. Let me know what you think of the French conversations, if it's annoying to follow then I will simply italicize the majority of Stella's French speech for the remainder of the story, otherwise I will keep it the way it is with the translations.


	3. Mother Goose

Stella gasped, eternally grateful for the air that filled her lungs. Her fingers grasped at the weeds that surrounded the pond, her limbs trembling with pain as she hauled herself out of the water. She had hit a shallow pool of water, which had doused the flames that had threatened to consume her. Despite this luck she had gotten her limbs stuck within the pond's muddy grip. It would have drowned her had she not reached up and out for the nearest thing she could cling to, which happened to be grass. She was thankful that its roots were strong as she inched her way forward, pulling herself from the bog with great sucking noises. Once she was out she lay there for a moment, attempting to catch her breath while knowing that she would not be able to. She slapped her hands to her breasts, feeling that her chest seemed to be intact, if a bit sore. Her hands flew to her face next, then ran through her hair. Finding nothing wrong she looked at her hands, arms and legs. Everything appeared functional, so she rolled herself over and got to her feet. She could see several fires blazing in the distance, one of which, the one that had sent up a mushroom cloud, she presumed was her plane. Five feet to her left a small dusty road lay placidly, and Stella made it a point to stay by the hedge and tall grasses beside it. To use the road would be folly, but she was able to move just as quickly from the reeds, while having at least a thin veil of camouflage. She kept her rifle at her left side, since the water had gotten into it, the damned thing was useless to her until it could be dried. Her whole arsenal had been doused, but she figured it would be better to appear armed than not. The strange feeling of a pistol in her hand however was possibly more unsettling than the fact that she was surrounded by people attempting to murder her. She had learned to use the gun of course, but she had never preferred it.

She attempted to piece together memories of her fall, but it had all happened so quickly she could barely remember anything of it. All had been quiet, she had been almost on the edge of sleep, and then the sound of something metal hitting the body of the plane. A bright light followed, along with pain and panic. Stella had taken one look out the door of the plane, which she had been sitting next to, she remembered, and jumped. As the girl looked to the tower of smoke that marked her planes grave, she noted that while it had been a one-time lucky escape, she could have died from the jump.

After a few fields and country roads, Stella finally came out on a wider road, one which offered a view of a church steeple. The pale stone tower beaconed Stella, daring her to come closer, to give her a way to orient herself. Stella knew better of course, no doubt the place was occupied by German soldiers. Then again, every town was bound to be as such.

Stella prowled forward, keeping low and moving slowly, knowing from experience that she would be easy pickings for a sniper in her current position. She crossed over another field, keeping to the hedges, poking her head out every now and again in search of a sign. When she finally did find one, she took a good long look at it. Several towns had been listed, and she thanked the lord above that the Nazis hadn't yet found it to black out the names. To her left was Beuzeville-au-Plain, to her right, Hameau Fournel. Stella grinned, all that field hopping hadn't been for naught. She could continue the way she had been going, and eventually she would hit St. Marie-Du-Mont, the marshalling point. She began making her way towards Beuzeville, where she would follow the roads until she hit the train tracks. She made her way past the blazing church, feeling a shiver run up her spine. Moving silently, she kept off the roads, trying to reduce the amount of noise her boots made in the water, until she was about to pass St. Mere Eglise, when she noticed that her boots were wet, and that she had been moving delicately in water for the past half hour.

Why were the roads wet? They had been dry as a bone when she had been near Beuzeville. Stella narrowed her eyes suspiciously, and from her position looked through the hedgerows. The road looked as though it had been disturbed, dug up in certain spots. It suddenly hit her as to why there was water on the sides of the roads. Of course, no one would want their feet wet, and thus they would walk in the middle of the path. She was willing to bet quite a bit of money that the roads were mined; not wanting a limb blown off she kept course on the other side of the hedge.

Clever, Stella thought as she moved on, making another mental note, to be more vigilant about the roads she walked on.

Past St. Mere Eglise she marched on, until finally she heard movement in the bushes. Crouching low, she stilled herself and waited as the footsteps got louder, and voices were distinguishable.

"Shut your yap Malarky, I know where I'm going, and this ain't the way." One said, with a distinctively American accent, one she had heard before but couldn't quite place it. She could see the soldier's face in her mind, but couldn't for the life of her remember his name.

"Ah come on Gonorrhea, the Krauts will hear you a mile away!" A different voice attempted to hush him, presumably this was the poor sod with Malarky for a name. But who was Gonorrhea? Guarnere! Yes, that was his name, she remembered seeing it sewn to his shirt as she had tapped his sunglasses.

"Easy Bill, I know that isn't the way, it's just going to be easier." Another, more ragged voice spoke with ease. This voice she recognised immediately. That was Joe. So Joe, Guarnere, and a man they called Malarky were together. That was enough reassurance for Stella, and so from a custom pocket on her sleeve she pulled the clacker. She clicked it once, and the men fell silent.

"Did you hear that?" A new voice asked in a whisper, one she didn't recognise. Another clacker went off and Stella approached on silent footsteps from the brush.

"Winters?" Another new voice asked

"No, it's Jaworski," She called lowly. Joe looked surprised to see her as her shadow emerged from the hedge lines.

"Evening Gentlemen. Headed for the tracks?" She asked, jerking her chin towards the railroad. Joe looked back at Guarnere.

"We're not sure." He said in a rather biting tone.

"Well you better figure that out soon, because I'm going to leave you behind if you're not." She stated, and Guarnere sharpened his gaze.

"So go," He snapped. To this Stella made no response, but looked towards the man she recognised as Buck Compton, realising his voice must have been the one she hadn't recognised.

"Your call, Lieutenant," The words, for being so softly spoken, appeared to pierce into Guarnere like a thousand needles. Compton pointed his gun forward.

"Rails."

"Swell. So long Normandy, we're headed to Spain!" Guarnere shouted, though he moved forward with the rest of the group towards the road. There, Stella held out her arm.

"Wait," She called, making the others stop. "There were mines on the road back where I came from."

"And when were you going to mention that to us you Dumb Dora? After we'd crossed the damned road?" Guarnere asked, his temper flaring once more. Stella turned to him sharply.

"Is that how you speak to your superior officers, Sergeant Guarnere?" She asked in the same soft tone she'd used when she had asked for their salutes.

"Sorry, Ma'am. No excuse." Guarnere bit out, remembering her rank and adjust his words accordingly, though it did nothing for his temper. She said nothing after that, but kept her eyes on him when she wasn't looking at the road. She fell in beside Joe, who led the way down the rails. The silence of the men made it easier to listen other dangers until Malarky piped up.

"I don't remember hearing about any railroads near our objective." He said after a few minutes of walking, though it didn't particularly concern Stella, seeing as she had memorized the layout of the area. The roads and fields would have been faster, but the lack of cover hadn't appealed to her, whereas the railroad had substantial forest surrounding it. Engaging the Germans alone in an open field would have been a very stupid thing to do; and who knew how many roads they had mined. They wouldn't have risk the railroad, Stella figured, as it was too important for their own supply lines.

"I'm telling you, this is the spur line that runs parallel to the river. We should be coming up to a road and bridge ahead." Joe said, with ever confidence. Stella raised an eyebrow, not remembering any river on the sand table.

"Yeah how would you know?" Malarky asked

"Because I studied the sand tables alright?" Joe said, his patience being tried. It was at that moment that the soldier Stella didn't know held up his hand and the rest crouched down and fell silent.

"Probably a friggen train or-" Malarky began, until he head the familiar

"Flash!" To which everybody but Stella responded

"Thunder!" She was still so used to using the Canadian version of 'handle' and the response 'with care', but she daren't say it among these men. A wrong password could mean the end of her life.

"Good to see you boys," one of the men said with an authoritative voice. "Who's this?" He asked, nodding to Stella.

"Lieutenant Colonel Stella Jaworksi, SOE." She said, shaking his hand firmly.

"Lieutenant Winters, pleasure, Ma'am. Are you leading here?"

"No sir," She said, assuring him that she was merely a follower, not meant to get in the way and muck up their system. In fact, laying down the lines with Guarnere had been somewhat of a no-no by military standard.

"Didn't stop her from pulling rank earlier," the offended man growled lowly, thinking he wouldn't be heard. Winters looked to Stella, who just shook her head. She wasn't going to get him in trouble again for the sake of her own reputation. He had been rude, and she had dealt with it by executing a military faux pas. They were her actions, and she would take the blame for it. Winters looked uncomfortable with her being there, but Stella could do little for that but prove herself in combat, which she hoped she was about to do.

After the men had greeted each other Winters ordered Guarnere and Hall to take the lead, and they continued on their way.

"Who else have you run into?" Joe asked as they continued their trek. Stella shook her head.

"You were the first people I've seen, it was strange. It was as though the Germans had just set up the asparagus and left."

"Is that what it's called?"

"The poles, yeah, Rommel's Asparagus. They started to crop up around February." She explained, referring to the numerous sharpened wooden poles that littered the inner fields of Normandy. "Rumour has it that they put trip wire on some of them, but even without that, they'll make your day much worst if you land on one." A humourless chuckle forced its way out of Joe's throat, when once again the man in front of them stopped and crouched. Winters ran ahead poking his head between the railings of a bridge they had come across, likely the one Malarky had question Joe about earlier. Stella could hear the distinct sounds of several people, speaking in German, bells jingling and horse hooves on cement. Her muscles tensed, and Joe saw fear in her eyes.

Single file, the men made their way down the slope and up the other side of the bridge, creating an ambush for the wagons. Stella flattened herself behind the treeline and peeked up over a small ridge at the oncoming cart as she prepared her weapon; hoping it had dried enough to fire.

"Wait for my command…" She heard Winters whisper once everyone was in position.

Pistol in hand, Stella eyed the people at the back of the wagon. She counted what men she could see, and took aim. Her breath came steady and even, but her hands would not still. They shook as she felt the awkward weight of the weapon in her hand. Her eyes narrowed, and time slowed.

Then, popping up in front of the tree Stella hid behind, Guarnere opened fire, ripping through the Germans with a spray of bullets. Somehow Stella wasn't shocked that he had disobeyed a command, yet she herself pulled the trigger, and put a single bullet through the side of the wagon and into one of the soldiers' hips. Taking more careful aim, she managed to put one bullet through another man's chest. Two shots in, and the Germans were all dead; Stella's arms shook. Six seconds of unnecessary fire from Guarnere later, and Winters had grabbed hold of his shoulder and shouted; "That's enough Guarnere!"

The noise was reduced to the pained whinnying of a dying horse.

"Is everyone okay?" Winters called, Joe and a few other men replying with 'sir'.

"The next time I say wait for my command you wait for my command Sergeant." He said sternly. Bill looked defiantly at him for a moment before responding with his own sir. Coming out from the bushes, Stella stood over the animal and aimed her pistol once more. Her heart jumped into her throat, and she felt like vomiting. She found that she couldn't pull the trigger.

Joe looked down at the animal, and at Stella holding the gun to the poor horses head, her whole body trembling. The horse gave a loud whiny, a cry of pain that Joe could no longer stand. He pulled his own pistol and with a well-aimed shot, put the poor beast out of its misery, the bullet flying over Stella's shoulder. The girl looked up, horrified at first, but then seemed to have regained control over herself. Her mouth and mind moved to thank Joe for doing what she could not, but her voice remained lodged in her throat. Joe nodded his understanding.

Meanwhile, Guarnere glared into Winters' back.

"Fine, Quaker…" He mumbled. Stella, recovered somewhat from the incident, thought about pulling rank again, but decided against it. Winters was close enough to have heard the comment, and was probably just ignoring it. One of the men who wasn't from Easy Company looked on at the enraged man as though he was some sort of reusable land mine just waiting for another foot.

"What's his problem?" The kid asked Malarky.

"Gonorrhea," the small man replied placidly.

"Really?"

"His name Dummy, Guarnere, Gonorrhea, get it?"

"So aside from having a shitty name what's his problem?"

"None of your fucking business Cowboy!" Guarnere jabbed.

Stella rounded on the 'cowboy' and took his collar, dragging him forward so that he was walking in front of her.

"I'm separating you two." She declared at the confused face on the younger man's face.

"What, Mama Goose? Taking the ugly duckling under your wing?" Guarnere asked with a snort.

"Yeah, actually, I think I am. You, keep walking. You," She pointed at Guarnere, "Stay back there." Guarnere opened his mouth but Stella interjected.

"Test moi pas, la.*"

She said, pointing a finger menacingly at him. Though he didn't understand the words he seemed to get the gist of it, and so Bill resigned himself to mumbling angrily under his breath. She hated to pull rank, she really did, but more than that she hated seeing the younger man be bullied. She wasn't doing him any favours, she realised, but this Guarnere character was simply too much.

"Don't worry about him." Joe said softly as she paused, looking back at his friend. Stella nodded, but it wasn't Guarnere that she was worried about; it was everyone around him.

* * *

><p>Test moi pas, la – Test me not, there – Don't test me!<p>

La, another French word that can be used in a variety of ways, in this context, it is added to the end of a sentence to let the other person know you're adding extra emotion. It can be used positively, to mean extra surprise or happiness, or negatively, to mean anger. In Stella's case it is used to let someone know that you mean business. Think of it as a sort of verbal exclamation mark.

Please, do look up Rommel's Asparagus, it's quite an interesting piece of history, one of the many that the Band of Brothers series left out completely.


End file.
